


Beautiful Things

by quicheand



Category: K-pop, SHINee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Stalking, but nobut only light stalking and it all works out in the end, but only light stalking and it all works out in the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-31
Updated: 2011-10-31
Packaged: 2018-05-18 03:10:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5895835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quicheand/pseuds/quicheand
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Key's purpose in life is to find the beautiful things in the world; as soon as he meets Lee Taemin he knows that Taemin is beautiful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beautiful Things

When Key is eight years old, a bully at school, a huge tubby boy with a permanent scowl that fits lopsidedly on his child's face, shoves Key into the mud and Key's supposed best friend flees out of fear, leaving him to stumble home alone, miserable and in tears. When his mother asks worriedly what happened to him, the words come tumbling in an almost unintelligible rush from Key's mouth, coupled with frequent sniffles and the occasional sob.

“Oh honey,” his mother says, wrapping him in her soft embrace. “None of that matters, baby,” she says. “People like that don't matter. I know it's hard right now, but someday you'll see that there are things more worth pursuing than the friendship of people like that.”

Key thinks about that all through the rest of the day. He's still thinking about it as he lies in bed that night, as he falls asleep. The next morning, he marches brightly and purposefully into the kitchen. Standing importantly in the doorway with his hands on his hips, he declares, “From this point forward, I'm dedicating my life to the pursuit of beautiful things.”

When Key sees Taemin for the first time he's sucking delicately on a kumquat. Wisps of his long hair, tinted an almost translucent red-brown by the sun, fall in a luminescent frame around his face, features puckered slightly at the sour taste of the orange fruit. Still, even with the temporary creases lining Taemin's forehead and the corners of his mouth, Key can tell—this boy is beautiful.

Key can't quite work up the nerve to go up and talk to Taemin, so instead he jabs Minho in the side and, ignoring the baleful look Minho shoots him, hisses, “Who is that?”

Minho follows his gaze. “Lee Taemin,” he says. “He's in high school, but he's friends with a lot of college kids—Jinki and Heechul and a bunch of other people.” Key trusts him; Minho knows everyone.

Minho narrows his eyes at Key, who's still staring thoughtfully at Taemin. “What are you thinking of?” he says in his low rumble of a voice. Key's attention snaps back up to Minho, and he widens his eyes innocently.

“Hmm?” he says, a soft upward lilt. “Nothing,” he says. “I was just wondering.”

Later, on his way home, he swings by the coffee shop Jinki works at. He greets Jinki cheerfully and orders a caramel macchiato and a cranberry scone. As Jinki hands him his coffee, Key says, casually, “By the way, could you tell me where Lee Taemin lives? He left something behind earlier and I want to give it back to him.”

Jinki's eyebrows lift in surprise. “Oh, you know Taemin?” he asks, a smile breaking out over his features. “Sweet kid, isn't he?” Key makes a vague hum of agreement, and Jinki continues, “It's a pity he hasn't got more friends his own age, but he doesn't seem to be too bothered by it. He comes over to hang out at my dorm a lot, actually.” Key resolves right then to visit Jinki more often. 

Jinki scribbles Taemin's address on the back of Key's receipt and hands it over. “Thanks, hyung,” says Key, unable to hold back his grin. He waves to Jinki with the hand holding his scone as he backs out of the store.

Key feels triumphant as he fingers the edge of the receipt in his pocket, although, truth be told, he's not quite sure what he's going to do now that he's got Taemin's address. It wouldn't do to just show up at his door one day like they're great friends, but neither does Key want to become some kind of stalker, waiting outside for Taemin to come home every day.

He waits for a while, doing nothing but silently gloating over the fact that he now knows Taemin's address, and thinking on what to do next. He comes up with a plan as he's walking home.

It's a brilliant plan, but for reasons Key can't quite name, it takes him a few attempts before he's able to pluck up the courage to execute it. The first couple of days, he stations himself a couple of blocks from Taemin's house with a pile of textbooks in his arms, a cup of coffee balanced precariously on top, only to chicken out when he sees Taemin comes strolling down the street. It's utterly embarrassing: he can feel his face glowing red even though he ducks his head to hide it, and all he can do is wait until Taemin passes, then make his way home again, feeling like a failure.

He finally goes through with the plan on the fourth day. Prepared with textbooks and coffee cup, he sits on the curb and waits until he sees Taemin walking down the street toward him from a block away, lithe and graceful even in his school uniform.

Key stands up then, getting ready to execute the crucial next step in his plan. He waits under the shaded overhang of a food stand, ignoring the vendor's irritated glare, until Taemin is about to pass by. The boy's gaze is directed downwards, and he doesn't notice until it's too late when Key rushes out into his path.

 _Perfect_ , thinks Key as they collide and the coffee cup flies into the air, splashing them both with lukewarm vanilla soy latte.

“Oh my god, I'm so sorry!” is what he says.

This is what happens in Key's mind: he and Taemin both apologize profusely, each clambering over the other to accept the blame, and since Taemin is a beautiful boy and therefore beautifully well-mannered, he invites Key over to his house to get cleaned up, at which point Key jumps him.

This is what happens in reality:

Taemin looks morosely down at his stained uniform shirt and swears softly but vehemently: “Fuck.” Key cocks his head in surprise, and says, stupidly, “Huh?” Taemin looks up at him, baleful. “Thanks for ruining my shirt, jerkwad,” he says, before neatly sidestepping Key on the sidewalk and continuing on his way, clutching the soaked and stained fabric of his shirt.

Key stands there dumbly for a minute. He's reminded of the incident with the bully when he was eight; even though he's not the only one soaked with muddy brown liquid this time, he still feels much the same as he did then: sad, confused, and let down by someone he had expected to be perfect.

He doesn't go crying to his mother this time, but he does, after changing into a clean shirt, sink with a heavy sigh onto his roommate's bed, muttering sadly into the pillow.

Jonghyun, seated at his desk, reaches over to pat Key sympathetically on the back of his no-longer-immaculately-styled hair, which seems almost to have wilted from the day's disappointment.

“You know I have no idea what you're saying, right?” says Jonghyun, cheerfully.

Key sighs and pushes himself into a sitting position. He pulls his knees to his chest and rests his chin on them, a plaintive pout settling over his face.

“It didn't work,” he says.

“Aww, that's too bad,” says Jonghyun. He turns back to his work, only to have Key slap him across the back of his head a moment later. “Ow!” he cries, indignant. “What was that for?”

Key scrunches his nose in annoyance. “You don't even know what it was that didn't work!”

“Fine, fine,” says Jonghyun. “What didn't work?”

Key heaves a sigh. “There's this boy,” he starts.

“Uh-oh,” says Jonghyun under his breath. Key raises his hand to smack him again, and Jonghyun almost tips his chair over backward as he scrambles to get out of reach.

“There's this boy,” Key says again. “His name is Taemin, and I had this amazing, perfect plan to get him to fall in love with me, like in the movies, you know, and he was supposed to be all gentlemanly and invite me to his place, only instead he was angry and sarcastic and didn't even ask me my name.”

Jonghyun is shaking his head. “Oh man,” he says, looking like he's trying not to laugh. Key wants to hit him again, but refrains for the sake of the productivity and efficiency of their conversation. “Where do I even start?” says Jonghyun. “Like maybe with how life isn't actually a chick flick and also did you spill coffee on him is that why you came back soaked and smelling like one of those stupid froufrou drinks you always get, oh my god, Kibum you crazy person.”

“Fuck you,” says Key. He flops back onto his stomach and bunches Jonghyun's pillow into a soft, feathery shroud around his face.

“Are you trying to suffocate yourself?” says Jonghyun, mildly. “You should probably stop.”

Key lets out a muffled groan of frustration in response.

Jonghyun shrugs and turns away. “Suit yourself.”

 

 

But Key is not the type to wallow in self-pity for too long: he permits himself to stay prone and miserable on Jonghyun's bed for less than ten minutes before jumping to his feet and striding purposefully from the room.

“Where are you going?” Jonghyun calls after him. “I thought you got horribly rejected and wanted to die—wait, you're not going to kill yourself, are you?”

Key dismisses that comment with a scrunch of his nose and a wave of his hand. “Don't be silly,” he says. “As if I'd let a failed first attempt get in my way. I have a backup plan, of course.”

“Oh boy,” floats out of the room in amused tones just before the door swings shut. Key rolls his eyes. Jonghyun doesn't know anything, really.

After exiting the building, Key heads down the path toward Jinki's dorm. He smiles cheerily at the girl at the front desk, who lets him in with a nod, and climbs the stairs to Jinki's second-floor room.

Jinki lets him in, and Key smiles brightly as he sits down at Jinki's desk, commandeering his chair.

“Err,” says Jinki. He hovers awkwardly for a moment before sitting down on his bed.

“So,” says Key, “have you talked to Taemin recently?” He opens his eyes wide, affecting a brightly curious expression.

“Err,” Jinki says again. Key fights down the urge to scowl and slap him across the back of the head; he hates that sort of wishy-washy hesitation.

“Actually, I talked to him a little earlier,” says Jinki. He rubs a hand through his hair. “It was kind of interesting—apparently he's got a stalker now.” He looks meaningfully at Key as he says this, and Key coughs, face flushing.

“Oh, really.” He folds his hands together in his lap. “That is—interesting.”

“Uh huh.” Jinki crosses his legs and leans back a little. “So—want to tell me again how it is exactly that you know Taemin?”

Key blushes, then looks up defiantly. “Fine, so I don't know him,” he says. “I just saw him and Choi Minho told me who he was. What's the big deal?”

Jinki sighs. “Key,” he says. “Why are you creeping on Taemin?”

“Oh my god, have you even _seen_ this kid?” Key says in a rush. “He's _gorgeous_ , and not just his natural looks, but the way he carries himself, and he's somehow so graceful when he moves, and he's so delicate yet cool at the same time, and—and besides, I wouldn't call it _creeping_ , exactly.” He trails off into a bashful mutter at the end, looking down again.

Jinki blinks, owlish. “Wow, okay,” he says. “I don't really know what you mean, but okay.”

It's not exactly the response Key is looking for, but he's not really sure what he expected from someone as odd as Jinki anyway, so he plows on. “So anyway—hyung, you're close to Taemin right? So since I'm such a good friend to you, shouldn't you introduce us and like, you know, drop some subtle hints to him about how awesome I am?”

Jinki raises an eyebrow at that. “I would,” he says, “if I thought you were awesome?” The sentence trails off into a question as Key turns the force of his most superior glare on Jinki.

“Come on,” he tries again. “Think of all the times I've helped you out, Jinki—don't you think you ought to repay the favor?” Jinki makes a face like he's finding it hard to think of a time Key has helped him with something, so Key clears his throat commandingly until Jinki pastes an innocent smile on his face.

“Okay, sure,” he says. “Fine, I'll, you know, put in a good word about you, or whatever.” Key brightens, and Jinki adds, “Just don't expect it'll make too much of a difference—Taemin's kind of opinionated about people sometimes.”

“Don't worry,” says Key. “I believe in you, hyung! I'm sure you'll get him to come around.” He springs to his feet, ignoring Jinki's uncertain protests, and waves cheerily as he heads for the door. “Thank you so much, hyung, I knew you'd understand! See you around!” And with that, Key exits the room, barely holding himself back from skipping out.

He's about to head to his evening philosophy class the next day when he gets a call from Jinki.

“What?” he says unceremoniously into the phone.

“Hey,” comes Jinki's voice, tinny through the receiver. “I was just wondering if you wanted to come to noraebang.”

“Right now?” Key scoffs. “Forget it—I have class.”

He's about to hang up, already has the phone away from his ear, but then Jinki's voice floats out toward him, and Key catches Taemin's name amongst the babble.

“What?” He snaps the phone back up to his ear. “Taemin's coming? Oh my gosh, I'll meet you there. Twenty minutes okay? Don't be late!”

 

 

Key's been waiting for ten minutes when Jinki shows up with three his friends and—Key's heart soars—Taemin. He bounces up and down on the balls of his feet.

“There you are,” he says. “I've only been waiting like forever. When you tell me to meet you somewhere, be on time, jeez.”

“Oh,” says Jinki, and it comes out half a question. “But you were the one who decided the time? And anyway, we're actually a minute early.”

Key ignores the warmth in his cheeks, as if by pretending it doesn't exist no one else will see the pink tinge there either. “Does it matter?” he says, crossly. “Come on, let's go in already.”

Taemin looks thoroughly annoyed, Key notes with a grimace as they settle into the room, to see that Key is there. He tugs plaintively at Jinki's sleeve.

“Hyung, you know him?” he asks, sounding scornful. Jinki laughs nervously.

“Um,” he says, and Key rolls his eyes at the way he enunciates the syllable. “This is Kim Kibum?”

“You can call me Key,” Key offers with a bright smile. Taemin looks dubious, and doesn't take the hand Key extends; Key retracts it again, sheepishly, his cheerfulness slightly dampened. But his good mood returns in full force when the intro to “Gee” starts playing.

“Ooh, this is my song!” he declares, jumping up and grabbing for the mic. He dances his way through, taking extra care to sparkle in Taemin's direction. When the song ends, he can't tell if Taemin's raised eyebrow is a good sign or not, so he decides to err on the side of optimism, and grins extra sunnily as he sits back down.

All in all, it's a good night, he reflects as they spill out onto the street, hours later. He bids Taemin goodbye, and then, as an afterthought, hugs Jinki goodbye as well.

“And thank you,” he adds in an undertone, into Jinki's ear, “for bringing Taemin.”

“Sure,” says Jinki, only slightly awkward as he wraps one arm around Key for a brief squeeze.

Key waves again before turning away. He manages to keep himself from skipping merrily until he turns the corner, but only just.

 

 

The next day is a good day too. Key's last class gets canceled, so he drops in on Jinki at work instead, and Taemin's there, leaning against the counter and chatting with Jinki as he prepares an order.

“Taemin!” cries Key, delighted. “And Jinki! Hi!”

Jinki waves, as well as he can while balancing two trays full of hot drinks. Taemin, after a beat, waves hello as well.

Key beams. Every day Taemin gets more comfortable with him, just as planned. Taemin looks slightly taken aback at Key's reaction, and looks to Jinki in confusion. Jinki laughs a little. He hands off the trays of coffee to a frazzled looking customer and shrugs at Taemin, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.

Key orders, then stands with Taemin to wait for Jinki to make his coffee. “So,” he says. “Yesterday was fun.”

“Mm,” says Taemin, vaguely. “Yeah.” His expression doesn't give much away, but he sounds like he's in a good mood. Bolstered by this positive response, Key continues.

“We should do that again sometime, if you're not too busy—are you very busy, with you know, school and whatnot?”

Taemin shrugs, slow and indifferent. “It's high school,” he says.

“Ah, yeah,” says Key with a little laugh. “I mean I guess I know what that's like.”

They chat for a little while, about this and that, life in general. Mostly, Key asks Taemin questions, which he answers laconically at first, but gradually elaborating more and more. Occasionally Jinki, wanders over and offers some input. They drift over to a nearby table after Key gets his order, and Key watches Taemin with his chin propped up on one hand as the other boy talks, retelling stories from school and home.

Eventually, at a lull in the conversation, Taemin stands up. “I have to go,” he says. It's only then that Key notices how much time has passed.

“Oh, right!” he says, getting to his feet as well. He drains the last of his coffee, now cold, and passes the empty cup from hand to hand. “I'll see you around sometime?” It's a statement and a question; Key hardly dares to breathe as he waits for Taemin's reply.

“Sure,” says Taemin, and Key's heart soars. “See you around sometime.

He waves goodbye to Jinki and leaves, bell on the door jingly merrily behind him. Key watches him go, then turns to Jinki and gestures excitedly, something like, _Did you see that I had a conversation with Taemin and he smiled at me and told me he'd see me around sometime!_ He doesn't know whether Jinki gets all of that, but Jinki nods gamely anyway and shoots him a grin and a thumbs up. Key feels extremely pleased with himself, and has to bite his lip to hold back his delighted grin.

 

 

“I'm in love,” declares Key with a blissful sigh as he topples onto his bed.

“Oh, boy,” says Jonghyun, from where he's crouched by the fridge.

Key ignores him. “I love his gorgeous feathery hair, and I love the dreamy floaty way he talks, and I love the way his eyes sparkle when he smiles.” He lets out another happy sigh. “Jjong, he's so amazing, you have no idea.”

Jonghyun stands up and kicks the refrigerator door shut. “And this would be,” he says, popping the tab of his soda, “that Taemin kid, or whoever?”

“Yup,” confirms Key. “That Taemin kid.” He smiles, eyes squinching shut with the motion. “That wonderful, gorgeous, perfect Lee Taemin kid.”

Jonghyun shakes his head. “Wow, Kibum,” he says. “Just wow.”

“What?” Key complains. But he's too happy to put much feeling into it.

Jonghyun waits a moment, then says, “You're not even going follow up with physical abuse?” He affects a shocked expression. “Really wow!”

Key throws a pillow at him, but he's laughing, and Jonghyun laughs too as he ducks against the blow and then tosses it back.

 

 

Key goes four days without seeing Taemin, and then he decides that waiting around for “sometime” is not proactive enough. He takes a detour home after class one day—a detour that loops him around town for an extra mile, but leads him onto the route Taemin takes home from school. Sure enough, as he turns onto a wider street, he sees Taemin's back, several meters ahead of him but easily recognizable by his thin, lithe frame. Key speeds up, quickly narrowing the distance between them.

“Taemin!” he calls. Taemin turns, looking around for the source of the voice for a moment before catching sight of Key, waving at him from a short distance away. He purses his lips and tucks his hands into his pockets, but nods in greeting and waits for Key to catch up.

“Hi!” says Key. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Taemin stares at him. “I always walk home this way,” he says. “But why are you here?”

Key waves away his question. “Oh, you know,” he says airily. “This and that. But what are you doing?”

“Walking home,” says Taemin, slowly, as if addressing a small child. Key slaps himself mentally, but presses on anyway.

“I'll walk you there!” he offers, striding up next to Taemin and starting to walk forward.

“Oh, no,” says Taemin, half-turning. “Actually I just remembered I have to go to the library.”

“Oh,” says Key. “I'll go with you! I don't have anything else to do anyway, and you look like you could use the company.”

“Do I,” muses Taemin, under his breath. Then, more loudly, he says, “It's really fine. I'll just be doing research and—other boring things.” He trails off toward the end and looks down the street, seemingly at nothing in particular.

“That's alright,” says Key. “I mean, that's all the more reason to have someone there to help keep the boredom at bay, right?” He adjusts the strap of his messenger back across his shoulder and follows as Taemin steps off the curb to cross the street.

Taemin glances sideways at him and sighs. “Okay,” he says. “Come along, whatever.”

Not that Key's listening with more than half an ear. Instead he follows as Taemin turns onto an intersecting street, unperturbed by Taemin's thinly disguised sigh of irritation. He—somehow, amazingly—carries on a mostly one-sided conversation, with only occasional murmurs of agreement or dissent from Taemin, all the way to their branch of the public library. It's not until the double glass doors are sliding open that Key says, musingly, “You're awfully quiet today. Got a lot on your mind?”

Taemin heaves a sigh and _looks_ at Key. Key just gazes back, totally unflustered. “Yes,” says Taemin, finally. “I've got a lot on my mind.” He walks into the library, depositing his book bag onto one of the tables and taking a seat there. Key follows and sits down across from him. Taemin stares at him for a second. Key gazes steadily back, a friendly smile still on his lips.

“Really, though,” says Taemin, eventually. “I'm just going to study and do homework. Do you really want to be here?”

“Oh, it's fine,” says Key, waving away what he perceives to be Taemin's concern. “Don't worry, you don't have to feel like you have to entertain me or anything—I'll just do my homework too.” He starts getting his books out of his bag.

Taemin sighs. “Okay,” he says. “Whatever you want.”

They stay there doing their homework together in silence, except for occasional absent-minded murmurings from Key, until it starts to become dark outside. Then Taemin starts putting his things back into his bag; Key looks up at the movement.

“You're leaving?” he says. He stands up, and starts collecting his textbooks as well.

“Yeah,” says Taemin. “It's getting late, so I should get home. The library will probably close soon anyway.”

“I'll walk you home!” says Key cheerily.

Taemin glances at him sideways as they both head for the exit. “If you want,” he says, evenly.

They walk along in silence, Key apparently having finally sensed that Taemin's not in the mood for chitchat. Finally, they reach Taemin's place.

Taemin stops in front and turns to look at Key. “So,” he says.

“So,” repeats Key. “See you sometime?”

“Mmm,” says Taemin vaguely. “Bye.” He turns and heads inside. Key looks after him until the door closes, then begins the long walk back to his dorm.

 

 

The next time he sees Taemin is unplanned—sort of. It's not that he's looking for Taemin, exactly, but it's true that he wouldn't normally come so far from campus before he met Taemin. It just happened unconsciously, that Key started to change his habits and the places he frequents, so coincide more with the places Taemin goes to often.

He's happily surprised when he sees Taemin, buying food at a roadside stand. “Taemin!” he calls, hurrying up to him.

Taemin looks supremely displeased as he turns around. “Oh my god,” he says, “ _no._ Just no. I cannot handle you today.”

“Um?” says Key, surprised at the hostility in Taemin's voice. He feels suddenly as awkward as Jinki, and shakes his head to clear the feeling. “What do you mean?” he asks.

Taemin scowls. “Are you five years old?” he asks. “Can you not take a hint? You are seriously the most annoying person ever.”

Key hesitates, than mumbles, “Taemin, if you're having a bad day—”

“No seriously,” interrupts Taemin. “Stop following me around, okay? It's getting a little old.”

Key's lip juts out into a pout before he can stop it, but he stays quiet; for once, he can't think of anything to say.

“I'm going to go now,” says Taemin, turning to leave. “Don't follow me,” he calls over his shoulder.

Key's not sure how long he stands there, shocked, humiliated, and dejected, but by the time he finally finds the strength to pick up his feet and start the walk back to his dorm, the sun has finished setting and the night is dark and cold all around him.

 

 

He stops following Taemin, stops asking Jinki about him, stops trying to plan so-called coincidental meetings. So it really is completely by accident when, a week later, they run into each other outside the coffee shop where Jinki works, Taemin heading in just as Key's exiting.

Key doesn't even notice it's Taemin at first; he's walking with his head down, and bumps lightly into someone at the door. “Sorry,” he says without looking up; it's only when the person says his name that he raises his head to see that it's Taemin.

“Oh,” he says. “Taemin.” He shuffles his feet awkwardly in the open doorway, wanting to make his exit as quickly and painlessly as possible but not quite sure how.

Taemin isn't making things any easier; he's supposed to raise a cool eyebrow and turn away again, or scoff disdainfully and let the door close between them, but instead he steps back over the threshold to join Key outside before letting the door close.

Key knows the expression on his face must be something between sullen and wary, and he tries to mold his features into some semblance of cool indifference. He probably fails, if the soft apology on Taemin's face is any indication.

“Look, I'm sorry about the other day,” says Taemin, in his mild, floaty voice, and Key hates himself for the butterflies that immediately stir in his stomach even though he tells himself he doesn't like it at all. He doesn't say anything, and Taemin continues. “I guess I was out of line, or I shouldn't have been so harsh, but I was just kind of—I don't know, creeped out? Or like, sick of having this really energetic shadow all the time.”

If Key hadn't been mortified when he realized it was Taemin he'd run into, he's definitely getting there now. “Yeah, thanks,” he says sourly. “I got that the first time.” He wonders if it will be more or less embarrassing to just turn around and run away, but Taemin speaks again before he can make up his mind.

“No, that's not what I meant,” he's saying, and Key wishes he would just say what he means already so Key can get out of there and never see Taemin again. “Sorry—I just meant that—well, it's weird if you just follow me around and just hover all the time. It's—I don't know what to do with that.”

“Um,” says Key. “Sorry?” Taemin bites his lip, and Key's eyes subconsciously track the movement.

“I don't think you're understanding,” Taemin says. “I'm saying that if you like me, flitting around fawning over me all the time is not a good way to go about it. It's like—it's weird, like you're placing me up on this pedestal or something.” Key blinks, once, then twice, and Taemin sighs and says, “I'm saying that if you like me, you should do something about it.”

“So you're saying,” Key says slowly, “that I should—ask you out or something?”

“Or something,” Taemin agrees with a smile.

Key's heart is beating, hummingbird quick, somewhere in the vicinity of his throat. He barely stops himself from squawking unattractively in excitement. Instead, he asks, tentatively hopeful, “Then are you free this Friday? For dinner or something?”

Taemin smiles and agrees. Key swallows past the sudden rush of feeling from the prospect of a date with Taemin—an actual date with Taemin!—and the way the movement as Taemin nods makes his hair fall in soft wisps about the lines of his slender face.

“This Friday?” Key says again, confirming. “For real?”

Taemin laughs, a light tinkle that floats through the air; Key shifts his feet slightly to make sure they are firmly grounded and not floating away with it. “For real,” says Taemin, and Key bites his lip to keep himself from grinning like an idiot.

“I'll pick you up,” he says. “At your house? At six?”

“Okay,” says Taemin, and this time Key can't stop the idiot grin.

“Okay,” he echoes, happily. Taemin laughs a little again, then nods toward the interior of the coffee shop.

“I'm going in now,” he says. “But I'll see you on Friday.”

“Friday,” says Key, “yes, I'll—Friday.” He turns his coffee cup around in his hand and decides he should probably just stop now before he breaks down into incoherent babbling. “See you,” he says. “Bye.”

“Bye.” Taemin steps inside with a final smile over his shoulder; the door jingles happily as it closes behind him.

Key steps along the sidewalk until he is safely out of sight of the coffee shop. Then he pumps his fist in the air and lets out the squeal of absolute joy that has been threatening to burst from his chest, almost spilling his coffee in the process.

 

 

“Jjongggg,” Key sings as soon as he opens the door to his dorm room. “Guess what?” He drops his bag on the floor and plops spiritedly onto his bed, lying spread-eagled on the blankets gazing happily up at the ceiling.

“Did Lady Gaga agree to take you on as her protege?” says Jonghyun. He heaves a huge mock sigh. “I hate to break it to you Kibum, but that was most likely just a dream. Like 99% chance.” He shakes his head. “You should really get more sleep so you don't doze off like—oof!” He breaks off in a muffled grunt as Key's pillow flies across the room to hit him in the face.

“I'm so happy,” Key says in a blissful sigh as he lies back down. “I've got a date with Taemin—an real actual honest-to-god date with Taemin!” He lets out another happy sigh, then presses his hands to his cheeks and squawks unintelligibly in apparent euphoria.

“What is this kid's problem?” demands Jonghyun. “Just three days ago you were still wailing over how he hated you and made you miserable and want to die of mortification, and now suddenly he likes you? Can't he make up his mind?”

Key shushes Jonghyun. “Don't talk about him like that,” he scolds. “Taemin's a perfectly reasonable, perfectly sensible human being.” He sighs again. “He's perfectly perfect,” he breathes.

“Uh huh,” says Jonghyun. “I'm sure.” Key shoots him a glare, and Jonghyun holds up both hands in defense. “Hey, I'm happy for you,” he says. “All I have to say is that if you're going to be having your new boytoy over for sexytimes, please, for the love of god, tell me ahead of time so I don't walk in and get scarred for life.”

“Can I have my pillow back?” says Key, flatly.

“No,” is Jonghyun's reply, “because I know you're only going to throw it at me again.”

Key sighs. “Sometimes I think you know me too well, Jjong,” he says in a grumble. From across the room, Jonghyun hums in agreement.

 

 

Key picks Taemin up promptly at six. Actually he's outside Taemin's place by five fifty, but, nervous and embarrassed at being early and not wanting to seem too eager, he doubles back again and walks in a circle around the block until ten minutes have passed.

It's pretty much a perfect date. Taemin comes outside, looking slim and just fashionable enough in a long, loose black shirt and grey skinny jeans. _Beautiful_ , Key thinks, automatically. He stutters a little as he greets Taemin, and curses himself internally, but Taemin just smiles that perfect smile and says, “Shall we go?”

They sit next to each other on the bus. Key has a brief internal struggle over whether or not to chance taking Taemin's hand, but in the end he does, reaching out and linking their fingers together, then bringing their hands to the gap between them, safely hidden amongst the folds of their clothing. He looks up at Taemin, checking to see if it's okay, and Taemin looks pleased at Key's audacity.

After they get off, it's only about a block to the restaurant Key planned for them to go to, but the whole walk there, Taemin leans into Key a little, staying a little closer than he has before; Key can feel Taemin's body heat seeping through the thin layers between them, and he can't help the little thrill of pleasure at the thought of being allowed to walk this close to Taemin.

Dinner goes smoothly as well. It's nothing fancy; even though Key had debated bringing Taemin somewhere a bit more upper class, he'd decided against it in the end, thinking Taemin would prefer someplace less contrived, more casual. He was right—Taemin seems to enjoy himself, seems to like the familiarity of the items on the menu and of the warm, bustling atmosphere. They talk about comfortable, familiar things as they enjoy the food, the specifics of their conversation camouflaged to all but the two of them by the conversation of the other customers. It's probably the most even conversation they've ever had, Taemin offering up just as much as Key. After dinner, they order dessert too, which is excellent, just sweet enough but not overly so—exactly, Key thinks, sappily, like Taemin.

“That was nice,” comments Taemin, mild as ever but with a pleased undertone, as they leave the restaurant.

“I'm glad you liked it,” says Key, but he's distracted by Taemin's mouth, the easy, happy upward curve of his full, pink lips, and the way his tongue darts out every so often to wet them again. He can't stop looking as they walk a little ways down the street. After a couple of minutes Taemin notices, and turns to look at him questioningly, just as they're reaching a quiet corner, shaded from the yellow glow of the streetlamps by a wide shop overhang.

“I'm sorry,” says Key. “Can I just—” And he leans in, a little awkward, and kisses Taemin. It's just a quick press of lips against lips, just long enough for Key to be able to feel that Taemin's lips are slightly chapped; just brief enough to leave him feeling, when they part, that they haven't really kissed at all.

“I'm sorry,” Key says again. “I—maybe I shouldn't have—” He can feel himself start to babble, so maybe it's a good thing that Taemin cuts him off then, by slipping slender fingers around to the nape of Key's neck and pulling in close, slowly, to kiss him again. It's as if they move in slow motion: Key can see Taemin's features, his smooth tan skin and the long silk-like strands of his hair, getting larger as he gets closer, and when their lips touch it's a moment before Key can fully register it. His hands float uselessly by his side for a moment—or two, or twenty; he has no sense of how long, really—and then he brings them up, dazedly, to rest on the jut of Taemin's slim hips.

It's a kiss that builds slowly; Key's not sure how long they stand there, but it feels like a long time later when they separate, the need for oxygen finally forcing them apart. Key swallows, and stares at the twitch of tendons in Taemin's neck as he catches his breath, chest pushing lightly against Key's own as it rises and falls.

“That,” says Taemin, and Key brings his eyes back up to the other's face, “was more what I was expecting when you asked me on a date.”

Key swallows and licks his lower lip; just the tip of his tongue darting out for a split second, but Taemin's eyes track the movement hungrily, and Key likes that. He comes to a decision then.

“Come on,” he says, and steps away, and grabs Taemin's hand. “I hope you don't have to be home by nine or anything, because you're totally coming back to my place with me.”

He doesn't look back as he pulls Taemin forward, but if he did, he'd see Taemin grinning, a sly, satisfied glint in his eye and a pleased flush to his cheeks.

It takes them far longer to get back to the dorm than it should—they keep pausing along the way to kiss and touch and push each other against gritty brick walls and Key would normally recoil from the dirty ugliness of it all only it's not ugly at all, it's hot and he doesn't know why but it doesn't stop him from moaning, just short of wanton, into Taemin's mouth. They make it there eventually. Somehow they even manage to pass the front desk without touching each other, though Key's itching, the whole time, to get far enough out of sight that they can let themselves come back into contact with each other. He's itching, the whole time, for skin touching skin touching not enough skin, touching only the skin of their bared arms and hands and occasionally slipping beneath the hems of shirts for a whisper of a touch of pale, hidden flesh.

He remembers something, belatedly, as Taemin leans back against the wall beside the elevator and tugs at the front of his shirt to pull him in. “Hang on,” he mumbles; Taemin sighs in protest as he pulls away—not too far; just far enough—to reach into his pocket and pull out his phone.

 _u hav 2 min to gt out_ , he types, before jabbing at the 'send' button to text Jonghyun, before returning his full attention to Taemin.

The elevator dings. Key doesn't really notice, until a familiar voice says, “So you're this infamous Taemin.” Key looks up then, startled, and steps away from Taemin to see Jonghyun looking like he can't decide whether he's more amused or wanting to run as fast as he can in the other direction.

Taemin widens his eyes innocently—ironic, given the situation Jonghyun's caught them in, given that Taemin's hand is still tucked halfway underneath the waistband of Key's jeans—and says, “Me? Infamous?”

Jonghyun grins. “I'm Key's roommate, and he hasn't shut up about you for at least a week straight, I think. I'm Jonghyun, by the way—I'd shake your hand but considering where your hand is right now...”

Taemin licks his lip and smiles, looking felinely pleased with himself. Key blushes and waves an arm at the general vicinity of Jonghyun's head.

“Yah,” he says, “are you getting out of here or what?” Jonghyun grins again and skips backwards a few steps before turning to push open the front door and disappearing outside.

The elevator doors start to close. “Yah!” Key exclaims again, foot shooting out to stop the elevator from leaving without them. Taemin gets dragged along with him, and they both stumble into the elevator, giggling, barely keeping from falling into a messy heap against the inner wall.

They probably shouldn't be making out in the elevator, should probably keep a safe distance apart, since anyone could enter on any floor between the first and the sixth where Key lives. But it's a lost cause—as soon as the doors slide shut they're on each other again, one of Taemin's hands sliding around to grope Key's ass and one of Key's slipping under Taemin's shirt.

Thankfully, no one gets on; the elevator speeds straight up to Key's floor, and they grope their way blindly down the (thankfully empty) hallway to his room.

As soon as the door shuts they're pulling at each other's clothing, stopping only briefly so that Key can steer them in the direction of the right bed. By the time his knees hit the edge of his mattress and he lets himself fall backwards, both of their shirts are gone, discarded somewhere along the path from the door, and Key's pants are unbuttoned. He pushes them all the way off, scooting farther onto the bed in the process.

Taemin pushes his jeans down too, brusquely, and tosses them unceremoniously somewhere, anywhere, off the bed. Key trails his hand down Taemin's chest, across smooth, tan skin, to band of Taemin's underwear, riding low over his hips. He pauses then, suddenly unsure.

“Come on,” says Taemin, almost a groan.

“Have you done this before?” asks Key.

“Oh,” says Taemin. “No.” Then, hesitantly, sounding uncharacteristically uncertain, “Does it matter?”

Key thinks about that for a moment, but doesn't respond. Instead, he slides Taemin's boxer briefs down over his hips, down past his knees. Taemin kicks them the rest of the way off just as Key leans down to take Taemin into his mouth.

“Fuck,” Taemin hisses, and Key hums in agreement around Taemin's cock. Taemin's hips jerk up, uncontrollably, but Key doesn't mind, just sucks him deeper into his mouth, into the back of his throat. Taemin's biting off gasps and moans; his fingers tangle in Key's hair, tugging just hard enough to heighten Key's senses—not enough to become painful. It's only when he's about to come that he starts pulling harder, in warning—but Key ignores him anyway, and then Taemin's spilling himself over Key's tongue.

He's still breathing hard when Key sits up, one thumb wiping daintily at the corner of his mouth. Taemin makes a slightly incoherent sound, then pulls Key up to kiss him. He scrunches his nose against the bitter taste of himself on Key's lips—Key can feel the movement, so close to his own face—but by the time they pull apart he's licking his lips, a look of consideration written across his face. Key laughs a little at that, and kisses him again, just quick.

“Oh,” Taemin says when they pull apart. He reaches down, fingertips brushing along skin as they travel towards Key's erection.

Key pushes Taemin's hand away. “In a minute,” he says.

“But—” starts Taemin, but Key cuts him off with a smirk and a murmur.

“Wouldn't you rather fuck me instead?”

Taemin shudders visibly at the words, and his cock twitches. Key's smirk widens, and he mouths a wet trail down the line of Taemin's jaw to the hollow at the base of his throat. He's still hard as he presses his body against Taemin's, and Taemin lifts his hips slightly, wanting that sweet friction but still too sensitive to go after it.

Key pulls away briefly to open the drawer of his desk, next to the bed. He comes up with lube and a condom, and tosses the latter to Taemin with a falsely sweet smile. Then, finally shimmying out of his own underwear, he settles down, legs spread wide, and coats his fingers before inserting two into himself. His mouth falls open at the sensation, and he notes with satisfaction the way Taemin sucks in a breath and licks his lips unconsciously, eyes glued hopelessly to Key's long, lithe digits as they hook and curve inside himself. 

After a minute Taemin crawls forward to settle between Key's legs. "I want to too," he says in a voice hoarse with lust. Key makes an inviting noise somewhere in the back of his throat, and Taemin takes it as a cue to add one of his fingers to Key's own.

Taemin's mouth is slightly open as he pushes in, even though Key's the one feeling, even though Key's the one being fingered open. It's tight, and Taemin says as much; Key laughs, low and unusually husky, and leans forward so that he can whisper in Taemin's ear, “Imagine what it's going to feel like on your cock.” Taemin almost, almost moans then, barely managing to keep himself to a soft, wet hitch in his breath.

When Key has been writhing openly for a couple of minutes, pushing himself down as far as he can go on their combined fingers, he bites down on his lip and withdraws his hand. Taemin follows suit, reluctant at first, but then suddenly eager as Key leans over him to pick up the foil packet of the condom again. He tears the packet open with his teeth and rolls it onto Taemin. Taemin pushes Key flat on the bed and shifts forward to kneel between his legs. He hesitates—but only for a moment, and then he pushes in.

Once he's in, Taemin's still, just bracing his arms against the bed and breathing hard. He stays there a moment too long for Key's liking, so Key lifts his hips sharply, jerking them up against Taemin's.

Taemin hisses and drops his head to the sheets beside Key's head. “Fuck,” he groans.

“Yeah, I know,” says Key, impatient. “So get on with it.” He twists upward again, and this time Taemin retaliates. He pulls out almost all the way, then snaps his hips forward, hard, slamming so hard into Key that Key slides backwards on the bed, head coming dangerously close to colliding with the headboard.

This time Key is the one who chokes out, “Fuck.” Taemin smirks and drives his hips forward again, and again, in an erratic rhythm Key thinks might be designed specifically to drive him completely, utterly insane, and Key loses the ability form words at at all, dissolving instead into a series of breathy whimpers.

Then Key's coming, a strangled moan catching in his throat. He throws his head back, and for a split second, forgetting that it's impossible, he sees himself and Taemin as if watching from outside his body, from somewhere in the vicinity of the ceiling. _God,_ he thinks, _we're so fucking beautiful_.

And they are. They are beautiful, reaching climax together, Taemin for the second time that night. Taemin's moans get higher and breathier, and he shuts his eyes, mouth falling open, as he thrusts one last time before succumbing to the waves of pleasure.

 

 

The next morning, Key wakes with the sun, and spends a few minutes propped up on his side, staring at the dappled patterns the light leaking in through the blinds makes on Taemin's bare skin. He reaches out to pass a hand lightly through Taemin's hair and down his exposed arm, thrown out over the blankets, as if needing reassurance that this is real, that this isn't a dream.

Taemin stirs and opens his eyes drowsily.

“Sorry,” says Key. “I didn't mean to wake you.”

“It's okay,” replies Taemin, voice sticky with sleep. They sit in companionable silence for a few minutes, Key still hardly daring to believe this beautiful boy is in his bed, and Taemin waking up slowly, gradually making the transition to full consciousness.

“Why'd you even decide you like me so much?” he asks, after a while. Key scoffs, thinking Taemin's just looking for attention, but Taemin nudges Key's foot with his own and repeats the question. He sounds genuinely curious, and Key widens his eyes in disbelief.

“What, you don't know?” His voice lilts up almost comically on the last word.

Taemin shakes his head. “How am I supposed to know?” he says, laughing a little, but not unkindly. “I can't read your mind, you know.”

Key trails his fingers down the smooth, perfect skin of Taemin's arm, passing along the edge of the lean muscle of his deceptively slender arm. “You're beautiful,” he says. He follows the motion of his hand with his eyes as he says this, not able to look Taemin in the eye.

Taemin laughs, and then Key does look at him. “I'm not,” says Taemin, smiling.

“You are!” protests Key. “Everything about you, all the time—even right now, the way your smile lights up your whole face—”

But Taemin shakes his head. “I'm not,” he repeats. Key gives him a dubious look, and Taemin sits up. “Hey,” he says, smiling. “I'm serious.” He swings a leg across, suddenly, to straddle Key; Key lies back flat, surprised. Taemin leans down to press his lips to Key's suddenly fluttering pulse, then trails down until he's mouthing at Key's collarbone. “If I'm beautiful,” Taemin murmurs into the soft white skin there, “then you have to be too, because you're definitely more beautiful than me.”

“Oh?” asks Key, half an octave higher than normal, distracted by Taemin's fingers rubbing circles into his hips.

“Mm-hmm,” replies Taemin. “And more importantly—” He trails off in favor of tipping Key's head back and kissing him. Key almost, but doesn't quite forget what they'd been talking about when they break apart again.

“More importantly?” he asks.

“More importantly,” Taemin says again, “we're pretty gorgeous together, don't you think?”

Key does think. If he's by Taemin, it's fine, he thinks, smiling softly. Maybe the point isn't to find someone beautiful after all. Maybe the point is to find someone who can make him feel beautiful as well—maybe the point is to make each other beautiful.

“Yeah,” he says, just before looping an easy hand around the back of Taemin's neck to pull him down into another kiss. “We are totally gorgeous together,” he murmurs into the corner of Taemin's mouth. He can feel Taemin grin against his lips, and for the first time since he was eight years old, Key thinks that he's finally figured out what it really means to find something beautiful. Has he been running around this whole time, restless, unsatisfied with the lack of beauty in his life? He doesn't know, but he does know that here, now, with Taemin in his lap and the sun streaming in over the both of them, Key feels, finally, that he's found what he's been looking for.


End file.
